


Faces

by renfield31



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: 1920s, F/M, Passionate Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 17:44:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7277701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renfield31/pseuds/renfield31
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All they could think about was the faces they made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faces

**Author's Note:**

> D.W. = D.W. Griffith

United Artists...why the hell did he start United Artists? All it got him was meeting after meeting, wearing a suit and tie and being stuck in so many conference rooms he had lost count.

But most of all, they took up half of his day, so he didn't get to see Mary. He hated them for that. They made the passionate nights they spent together evaporate into mist by 8 AM the next day. 

But not last night. Oh no. He wasn't letting them spirit away last night.

His eyes were on D.W., who was presenting some figures (he couldn't be bothered to care what they were about), but his mind was somewhere else; Doug was a master at paying false attention. 

Last night.

It was 10 AM, well after Doug and Mary had left for work and gone about their lives, but her taste was still fresh on his lips, the way popcorn lingers on your lips hours after you eat it. He still felt her juices on his tongue, still felt her long nails trailing down his abs. He smiled slightly; who knew that abs were all a man needed to turn America's Sweetheart into America's Slut?

After her nails came her tongue. He was on his knees on the bed. He felt six feet tall as he looked down at her licking down his torso and looking up at him for approval. Doug wasn't a moaner. He never moaned when his first wife made love to him or even when she sucked him off, but this little Canadian girl...there was something about her that made him close his eyes and surrender to the ecstasy she made him feel.

His eyes closed, lip bitten and his head thrown back was the first face. That was the face Mary was thinking of in her dressing room as she got ready to film. She looked down  
at her girlish dress and looked in the mirror at her curls, thinking about the faces she'd make if Doug were here and not in that damn meeting. He made her make them last night; she was still in her cute little dress and curls. That turned him on. The minute they entered Pickfair's gates, he was pulling up her dress and making her ass raw with his strong hits.

"I love it when you look innocent," he whispered against her ear. He loved her innocent. That way he could corrupt her. Mary had always been a feminist and hated that type of thing, but it's not every day that a girl gets to be corrupted by Douglas Fairbanks. And that's when she realized that she loved it. She loved being innocent and America's Sweetheart and The Girl With the Curls during the day and on-screen and then at night, coming home to Everybody's Hero who unleashed every animalistic tendency she had.

The second face was her face when he slid a third finger inside her.

Doug could feel her wetness on his fingers even now. That's why they were under the table, concealing his erection. He wasn't in the conference room anymore. He was in their bedroom, with the huge bed. The sheets, pillows, throws and comforter were on the floor. Candles were burning bright around the room. They were sitting up; she was sitting on his lap, hovering dangerously close to his penis. His thumb pressed up and down against her pearl as they kissed and she pulled his lip, her arms wrapped around him.

Another finger.

She let go of his lips. If there were other noises in Pickfair, he couldn't hear them. His face was buried in her neck. Her cries were all he could hear. She was pressing her mouth against his ear and moaning. She _wanted_ him to hear her. She _wanted_ him to hear how he was making her feel and if he knew Mary, if he heard anything else, she would fucking kill him. It wasn't just her pussy that was wet; her entire damn body was slick with sweat. He didn't care whether it was from their lovemaking or the heat of the candles. All he knew was that he loved it.

A third finger. 

Screams.

"Baby..."

He wished their neighbors lived closer. 

He dared pull away from her neck to look at his queen. Her head was thrown back, eyes closed. 

That was the second face.

A devilish look came upon his face. America's Sweetheart my ass.

She came back down and chewed on his ear, pulling it, kissing it, but what she did next made his heart stop. He could feel her sexy little lips caress his ear before a tiny sound escaped them.

"Daddy."

Fuck screams. Fuck moans. That was the sexiest thing he'd ever heard. Despite his three fingers, she stayed in control and told him what he wanted to hear. That was what he loved about her.

The third face was the big one. Mary remembered that. She remembered how they looked in each other's eyes and made a decision. She knew that look in his eyes too well. They were telling her that he was tired of teasing. He wanted the real animal in her to come out. 

She fell to the bed with a smack. She wouldn't care if she hit the headboard. Something warm touched her where she needed it the most.

His mouth.

No more fighting.

Her mouth opened and formed an O as her cries echoed. She wanted to clone herself and walk around Pickfair and hear them throughout the whole house.

Wait...he was saying something. What the hell was he saying? She didn't know, but it echoed throughout her whole body. His mustache tickled her wetness. She loved how erotic that always felt. She wanted to lick herself off of it when he came up for air.

Hours upon hours. That's how long he could do this for. He didn't drink, but her juice was booze that he loved getting drunk on and waking up the next morning with a splitting headache, only to cure it with more of her alcohol. For some reason, his peripheral vision traveled to the floor while he was sucking. Her panties were next to the bed. Lace. The way he liked them. They were still soaked from his licks before he whisked them off. He smiled as he sucked. Harder.

Oh God, why the fuck was his tongue so attractive...

Now it was Mary's turn to close her eyes and go to another world. Her head tossed and turned as if she was having a nightmare, but it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever experienced. He was squeezing her breasts...

Moans when she felt the nipples harden...she loved it when he paid attention to her breasts. He loved how small and perky they are and when he played with them, it made her feel sexy. It made her want to fulfill all of his fantasies.

"Yes..."

"Fucking love your titties, babe..."

Her pussy went cold. Her breasts too. He'd stopped.

"I'm ready, beautiful."

His brown eyes bored into hers. She was ready too. He wasn't asking her. He was telling her. The minute he went in, the third face came back on both of their faces. A lot of people say that lovers should look into each other's eyes during sex. Bullshit. 

He held her gently while he thrust. The O's were pressed to each other's lips. He started to speed up.

"Douglas...Douglas...Doug..."

"DOUG!"

Back to the conference room. Shit. Did he give anything away? He was sweating. Wonderful.

"It's your turn to present," D.W. said calmly.

"Oh...yeah...sure."

Duty calls.


End file.
